More disclaimer: Do not repost this story beyond the limits of the Fair Use standards of Copyright Law (quotes, examples, ‘you gotta read this’ excerpts, the usual). the author is not making any kind of profit from this fanfic.
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Lady Hortesnaed, Duchess of Mildendo, writhed in her hammock in an attempt to get comfortable. The rough fibers of the vines holding her resisted, as they had for the last month.
Across the hut her aide, Lady Ritchaskka, had given up on comfort. She aimed for distraction, offering increasingly difficult word games to her mistress.
“An eight letter word for the state of being half-undressed while waiting the completion of laundry,” she suggested.
“That’s a conjugation of-“ Hortesnaed was interrupted by a burst of drumming from outside. “What is that racket?”
“According to Sir Burthoen’s writings,” Ritchaskka said in a lecturing tone, “the natives of the Outer Islands use drums to drive away evil spirits, much the way they use horns to attract good ones.”
Hortesnaed well remembered the horns. Every night that the cannibals had eaten one of her kidnappers they’d invited their deceased ancestors to attend.
She shuddered at the memory. Hortesnaed would have enjoyed seeing the King’s troops march Captain Fellelle and his band of thugs to the square for execution. But being forced to watch them be broiled alive was too much.
No civilized person deserved that. Better to be blinded, muted, gelded, hamstrung and hobbled by members of an enlightened society with refined laws. She rather hoped she’d faint at her turn, before seeing her savage captors file their teeth in anticipation.
But no horns were sounding at the moment. Just the drums. “That’s a lot of damned drums,” she muttered.
“Yes, milady,” Ritchaskka agreed. “I would suggest that it was a very evil spirit.”
“Captain Fellelle, do you suppose?”
“I said evil,” Ritchaskka said in rare disagreement with her employer. “Fellelle was on an evil mission, but he was the pawn of someone else.”
“Working for evil doesn’t make you evil?” Hortesnaed asked, raising her voice above the growing clamor.
“Not the way he cried at his end. At least the cabin boy got a bite out of the chef on his way to the fire. The Captain just collapsed.”
“True,” Hortesnaed agreed. “I was trying to decide my comportment when they take us to the fire.”
“I had expected no less than ladylike restraint,” her friend said cheerfully.
“On the other hand, if I break down and scream, rant, carry on, my bile may rise and spoil the taste.”
“An interesting plan,” the aide said with a nod. “I was thinking of peeing on myself for the same reason.”
The image of the protocol-infused, dignity-obsessed Esquire staining her body that way in public was so counter to her character that Hortesnaed was shocked into genuine laughter.
They were sharing a smile between themselves when one of the savages ran into the hut. Red hair flaring out around his face, the shaman was the very image of brutality and savagery. For now, though, there was a measurable amount of fear showing, too.
He babbled something and kept pointing outside. Hortesnaed shrugged and turned away.
“He says,” Ritchaskka supplied, “that there is a horrible beast at the loose in the jungle. We are to be sacrificed to it.” More villagers entered and started to untie the women.
Others held the harnessing poles ready and guarded the exit against escape. It was the same routine as every disgusting cookout, but with an unusual urgency.
“Will it devour us raw, would you think?” the Duchess asked, choosing to cooperate vice fight at the moment.
“I should hope so,” was the answer. “I have hoarded a prodigious amount of urine for just such an emergency.”
They were tied to the crossed poles and driven into the streets. There they saw the entire village in a panic. Men manned the lookout catwalks with drums, women lined the base of the walls beneath, also drumming.
A team was stretching a large skin across the framework of a hut that had been under construction.
“They’re building a giant drum,” Ritchaskka observed. “As one might drill a tree into an emergency cannon. Must be a very, very evil demon.”
Hortesnaed nodded in agreement.
At the main gate of the palisade, the shaman shook his fetish and said a few words. Very few. Then he gestured.
The gate was slipped open, the women driven outside at spear point, then the gate was shut and sealed from within.
They took a few steps across the muddy field outside.
“Here, monster, monster, monster,” Ritchaskka called.
“Do you really wish to attract the beast?”
She shrugged. “Maybe the thing will take us as antipasto, then decide to follow the snack with every cannibal on the island.”
“Always thinking,” the Duchess said approvingly. “That’s what I pay you for.”
“Oh. Meant to tell you, milady. Your purse ran out of coin about four months ago. You’re behind on my salary.”
The cross pole made motion difficult, but Hortesnaed turned her entire body to face her friend. “So sue me.”
“I have submitted a writ,” she answered. “I fear the mail is not steady this far from the capital.”
The drums were suddenly silent. All but one. An unsteady thump rose up from the ground under their feet. The nobles of the Empire glanced up to the walls. The men were pointing toward the distant jungle. They turned slowly around.
A mighty tree tipped over. A monstrous form thrust into view in the gap of the treeline. Towering as high as a church steeple, all features were shadowed by the sun being behind it.
Tied as she was, the Duchess was unable to shield her eyes in an attempt to see the monster clearly.
It stepped forward and they realized it wasn’t a drum they’d felt, the creature shook the very ground with each step.
When it was less than a telk away from the wall it stopped walking. The women squinted up at it.
“Holy crap!” it said. “They’re real!”
“That sounds like speech,” Ritchaskka said. “Wonder if he’s saying we look pretty or tasty.”
Hortesnaed gasped. A lifetime of training and conditioning informed her response. “In the name of Lemuel Gulliver, who once graced these shores with his presence, and as the Librarian of the Welcoming Guild, I do ask you, Man-mountain insert name here, to feel welcomed indeed to Lilliput and the Empire she rules.”
She staggered backwards as she finished. “Oh, and, uh, please save us from the cannibals on the walls, if you don’t mind.”
“You speak what it speaks?” Ritchaskka asked.
“Gulliver?” the monster said wonderingly. “Gulliver was real? You’re real?” He moved a bit and the women caught sight of his face. “This is Lilliput?”
“Gulliver. I caught that,” Ritchaskka said. “And Lilliput. Is this an Englishman?”
“I don’t know yet,” Hortesnad said softly. “But he speaks the language the Englishman taught us.” Louder she called up to the man, “This isn’t Lilliput. It’s a distant island, the end of the chain. Simple savages rule here. Cannibals, as I mentioned.” She twisted to give him a good view of the poles she was lashed to.
“Oh, yeah, of course.” He plucked her up carefully, taking the weight of her body on his palm, the poles on his fingers. “And that one?”
“Yes. That’s my aide. She doesn’t speak Englishman.”
“Well, neither do I,” he said with a snort. Ritchasska flinched away from his reaching hand.
“Let him pick you up!” the Duchess ordered.
“I don’t know where these hands have been!” the Esquire replied.
“They haven’t been in a cannibal’s larder!”
“Good point!” she said, rushing back towards the waiting hand. With both women in his grip, he rose and started to walk away from the village.
“So, let’s go check on my jugs and see about these ropes,” he said. Behind them drums started again, but not as many. It seemed they wanted to keep the monster away by drumming, but not to antagonize him with the noise.
Ritchasska thought it rather sophisticated for the tribe she’d observed.
----
About twelve leagues up the side of the mountain that loomed over one edge of the island the giant slowed to a stop beside a large pond fed by a waterfall.
He sat with his bare feet in the water and placed the women on the shore. They examined him as he felt around on the bottom.
“He’s kind of cute,” Ritchasska offered her mistress. There was no answer. A glance discovered that she was watching the man as one might look upon a religious vision.
A fifth-generation Welcomer, her entire life had been aimed at being prepared for the next giant. Or, the Esquire thought, to do a better job welcoming the last giant. That was more in line with how bureaucracies worked.
“OI! Mistress!” she shouted. The giant turned to see the commotion. She shook her head and nodded her head towards the Duchess. He nodded and went back to searching.
“HEY!” When Hortesnaed started to blink she tried to get her engaged in their real world situation. “What’s his name? What’s he doing here? Will he help us get home? CAN he help us get home? Does he have a tree house with some cannibal repellant? Come on, work with me, here.”
“Oh. Yes, I understand. Excuse me? What is your name?”
“I’m Ted. Theodore J. Malone, to be completely frank. Who are you?”
“I’m Lady Hortesnaed, Duchess of Mildendo, and this is my aide, Lady Ritchaskka, Esquire.”
“Nice to meet you, Hortense, Ritchie. Aha!” He lifted a boulder from the water and held it on his knee. A second later he pulled another one. “Now, I’m no flint knapper, but this should…”
He smashed the rocks together. One shattered, the other was barely scratched. Bits of gravel fell to the water but none came near the lashed women. After a few more strokes he had a rock with a jagged edge.
He picked up the Duchess once more and turned her around in his hand. “Hold still,” he cautioned, then started to saw at the cords with his ad hoc knife.
“What brings you to the islands, Frank?” she asked, trying not to think about the forces at work just a hand’s breadth away from her tender wrist.
“Ted, not Frank. And my ship hit a rock. It went down quickly, but not immediately. I had time to through a raft over the side.” He freed one side. “Then as I pulled it to the shore of a nearby island, that snagged on a rock. I’m trying to repair it.”
Hortesnaed’s hand came free with a snap. She knelt in his palm and rubbed at her wrists. He tossed the poles over his shoulder, then set her down gently on the ground.
Ritchaskka was released next. “I’ve got a camp set up where the patch is drying, but there’s no water on the island. None I can use, anyway, so I waded over here to see what I could find.”
With both women released and standing together he dropped his sharpened rock and waded out into the water.
They watched as he reached into the running water and pulled out a strange device. A jar or a bladder the size of a house had been filling in the stream.
He checked that it was full, capped it and brought it over to set down beside them. As he waded out to get another one, they examined it. It was a jug but made of some sort of leathery glass.
It was about the color of milk-glass, but there was give to it, as of a canvas tent.
“Wonder what got skinned to make these?” Ritchaskka mused.
“Anyway, once I got these strung up, I heard the drumming. Didn’t see a settlement, but I followed the sound. Came over the last rise, the village still looked to be about a mile away.
“Imagine my surprise to almost step on it when I was worried I wouldn't reach it by dark.”
“Surprise,” Hortesnaed repeated. “Imagine.”
They watched as Ted pulled a metal pole out of the trees and rigged the water containers to it. Two at each end balanced it as he hoisted it on one shoulder. He adjusted the positions until the weight satisfied him.
“Where will we ride?” Ritchaskka asked the Duchess.
“I’m not sure,” Hortesnaed replied. “I’m not sure he even intends to take us. He seems to be ignoring us.”
Just then the giant knelt down in front of them. “Okay. Now, if you’re real, I should probably not leave you to those cannibals.
“But I might be hallucinating. Then it’s probably not healthy for me to indulge the hallucination by pretending to rescue you.” He stared down as Hortesnaed quickly translated.
“We don’t seem real?” her aide asked him, through Hortesnaed.
“Well,” he replied, “in my country, Gulliver is called fictional. And I seem to be living out a King Kong movie where the casting director used Lilliputians.”
The nobles considered his argument for a moment.
“Ah.” Ritchaskka stood and held up her arms. “Ask him to lift me to his face.” When she was before his nose, she started to lift the hem of her skirt. “Ask him if I may pee in his mouth. I do have that hoarded urine still.”
Naturally enough he refused. “Then!” Ritchaskka said triumphantly, “he at least acknowledges that my pee might be real. If he isn’t convinced of my hallucinatory nature enough to risk such discomfort, he must allow the possibility that we are factual.”
“Okay, okay,” Ted surrendered. “You’re real ‘enough’ to-“ He stopped. Something had changed and he looked around trying to identify it.
“The drums,” Hortesnaed said. “They stopped.”
“They’ve decided something,” Ritchaskka said as the giant put her down beside her mistress. Ted took off his shirt and rolled it into a makeshift bag on the water bottle pole.
“That doesn’t look all that safe,” Ritchaskka complained. Then the village horns sounded. The ones that invited ancestors to feasts. “But I’m no safety minister!” she cried, running towards the outstretched hand, her employer close on her heels.
The view from man mountain shoulder height was spectacular. Trees swiftly passed by beneath them as he walked to the shore. Greenery covered hills seemed to move past them of their own account, then the beach flew up at them.
There he paused only briefly before stepping into the water. His aim point was a smear on the horizon, only slightly darker than the water and sky that sandwiched it.
The waves climbed slowly closer.
“You said you waded to this island,” Hortesnaed said, eyes fastened on the sharks swimming below. They were clearly visible in the water, circling around the huge legs.
“Yeah. It was the only one I could see. I figured I could try swimming if I had to, but it turned out I touched ground the whole time.”
“That’s nice to know,” she replied. “Any trouble with the sharks?”
“Sharks?!” he asked, coming to a complete stop. The women grasped the shirt tightly as it swung back and forth.
“Whatever you just said,” Ritchaskka said dryly, “don’t ever do that again.”
Ted was scanning the waves around them with wide eyes. “I never thought of sharks.”
“Um…don’t panic,” Hortesnaed warned him. “But there are…sharks in these waters. Thethingis,” she said quickly as he started to shake, “they’reonourscale! Ours. Tiny, compared to you. Liiiiiiiiiiitle Lilliputian sharks. Okay?” When he seemed calmer, she pointed.
“Look down, gently.” He did. His shrug set the shirt swinging again, but not so violently.
“Oh! Ah, hell, even a Great White wouldn’t attack me, here! Cool!” He set off again.
The waters got as high as his shoulders. For the few steps it took him to cover the deepest part of his fording, he simply held the pole higher. The water bottles dragged through the seas but the shirt remained dry.
The next island looked rather similar to the one they’d left. The jungle was a bit sparse, the trees a little spindly. But the general layout was hard to distinguish.
“Wanna walk?” he asked as he stepped to the shallows.
“Have you seen any animals?” Hortesnaed asked. He shook his head. As the women were approaching seasickness, they choose to follow him to his camp.
He kept to the water’s side of their path, walking slowly, and led them along the beach.
“I think there might be some animals,” Ritchaskka guessed, “but they’re hiding from the big bruiser.”
“Can’t really blame them,” Hortesnaed said.
The giant’s camp was impressive. There were two tents. One, the size of a decent mansion, was staked to the sands as far from the water as he could fit it.
The other, even larger, lay limp, draped over a promontory ridge. “Or a boulder, he probably called it,” the Duchess observed. “Why two tents?” she asked him.
“Two? There’s just the one tent. This? This is my raft.”
“Oh,” Ritchaskka said after it was identified to her. “A canvas raft. How quaint. I suppose he’s serving soup sandwiches for dinner?”
“I’m letting the patch dry,” he went on. “I’m not sure how old the glue is. It’s not holding like I expected it to, so I’m doubling the cure time.”
The Duchess blinked up at him during this explanation. Her companion was helpless to explain it any further.
-----
Dinner was a strange experience for the nobles. Ted produced a metal barrel which he heated over a fire he kept in a large metal box.
Each woman received a leaf torn from a jungle tree holding a bean the size of a pumpkin. They were dripping with something that sounded like bear-bee-cute sauce to the Duchess. Gulliver had never mentioned the delicacy.
Bits of some meat floated in the sauce and Ritchaskka cried in glee to discover the one on her leaf.
“Meat!” she said. “Meat that isn’t salted to the point of being arrow-proof, or provided by suspiciously grinning savages!” She made a point of taking only the tiniest of bites to savor the experience.
“Tastes kind of like bacon,” Hortesnaed said.
“That’d be one big damned pig,” Ritchaskka said without thinking. Hortesnaed merely raised an eyebrow. “Shut up,” her aide said after a moment.
Hortesnaed broke into laughter. Ted nodded sagely when she explained. “Yes,” was all he said, trying to hide a smirk.
They sat in companionable silence after the meal. Ted built a fire of drift trees and leaned against a hillock. He set up a flat rock nearer the fires for the women.
“How did he come to the islands?” Ritchaskka asked. Hortesnaed conveyed the question and the response.
“Oh, I was sailing to Australia,” he replied. “I was there once in the Navy. Aussie women seem to pay a lot of attention to American sailors.” He shrugged.
“Thought I’d see if Sydney was any better than Portland. How about you guys?”
“The King selected me to send on Procession,” the Duchess explained. “I toured the ports, large and small, promising them that the Crown had not forgotten them. Sending inspectors to the city defenses, auditors to the city fisc, spies to the city pubs.
“Then my aide and I,” she nodded to include the Esquire, “collected the reports, sifted for information or problems, wrote our own reports and continued on to the next site.
“About a month past, we received word that the Queen was ill and demanded my presence. We left the Procession to continue without us and went to the capital on the vessel that had brought us the word.
“It turned out that Captain Fellelle was an agent for Blefuscan separatists and was intending to hold me hostage for some sort of demands.”
Ted leaned forward to pour some coffee into a mug he was sipping from. The two women waved their hands to reject any further exposure to the foul beverage.
He settled down again and she continued. “After they killed my attendants, save one, they headed for deep water. They were circling the island to get to some safe harbor.
“A storm came up and blew him some distance off course. After a day and a night with no way to take bearings, we suddenly fetched up on some rocks.
“We were forced into the longboats and barely made it to shore. Then the villagers found us.” Ritchaskka guessed at the point the story had reached by her mistress’ expression.
She took one hand in both of hers and offered silent support. Hortesnaed smiled for a second, then finished.
“The savages ate them. One at a time, with the rest of us forced to watch the butchery and the devouring. Then the heads were placed on stakes to wait and watch for the next feast.”
The three were silent for a long time after the story. Finally, Ted cleared his throat and scooted closer to their stone.
“I, uh, I’m not too sure if I can take on an entire village. But if you want me to, uh, take out the cannibals…” His voice lowered and slowed to a stop.
Ritchaskka raised one eyebrow. “That great idiot isn’t offering some heroic gesture, is he? I mean, to risk his life, and thus ours, for the honor of a ship of pirates?”
Hortesnaed convinced Ted that he need not attack a horde of armed fiends. Then she pointed out to her friend that ‘idiot’ was a word they’d picked up from Gulliver. It was the one word in her sentence that the giant would have understood perfectly.
----
As they were still unaware of the possible wildlife on the island, the two women welcomed Ted’s offer that they sleep within his tent. The arrangement of closures fascinated Ritchaskka.
“I don’t think a monkey could make it in here tonight,” she said happily. She was to prove almost prophetic.
Ted found a steel tub that was part of his mess kit. A handkerchief across the bottom provided the most comfortable bedding the women had seen since leaving their Procession.
The three were soon all tucked in and sleeping soundly from the physical and emotional exertions of the day.
----
Sometime after midnight a sound woke Hortesnaed. She raised her head over the lip and saw glowing spots in the tent walls.
Ritchaskka rose instantly at a touch to her shoulder. She identified the lights as torches held by people outside the tent. There weren’t many possibilities as to the source of those peoples.
“Wake the giant,” she suggested. They scurried across to his head and tugged on his ear. It took considerably more effort than either of them had needed.
Finally he woke, though. At one glance around the front of the tent he understood what was going on.
The lights were spread across the front of the tent, and bodies started to press against the fabric. “They’re trying to find a way in,” Hortesnaed whispered.
“They’re not invited,” Ted growled. He reached to a corner and picked up one of his shoes.
Judging his moment carefully, he slapped the side of the tent where there was a torch-lit protrusion. A scream sounded from outside and the light winked out.
The next one he struck never made a noise. Nor did the next three. The fourth got a glancing blow and howled like a stuck pig. The lights started to recede.
Ted opened the zipper and charged out into the night. Any cannibal holding a torch was an easy target. After they were smashed to the rocks he found a flashlight by the fireplace. The beam sought out the rest.
Once there were no more intruders in the general campsite he stopped his attack, retreating to the tent to be sure the women were well.
“Now that was brutal,” Ritchaskka said happily. Hortesnaed refrained from comment, but sounded a clear ‘huzzah’ inside her heart.
Ted stoked up the fire and sat in the tent opening until sunrise.
----
“Ready or not, we have to go today,” Ted said as he pumped up the raft. The women were fascinated. Each move of his foot caused a part of the fabric to flutter.
Then the entire building-sized bladder inflated before their eyes.
“It’s weird,” Hortesnaed said. “For the longest time, you see only a crumpled canvas. Then suddenly it has form and you imagine it completed.”
“I can’t imagine what it’s going to look like, completed,” Ritchaskka replied. Neither of them really grasped the shape of the raft until it was completed and the giant lifted them up over it.
“Oh! A cottle-shell,” the Duchess said. “An ancient craft that predates-“
“That predates the keel-and-sail design of the Cheks,” her aide finished. “I had the same education. But this doesn’t have an external frame.”
“Quite,” Hortesnaed agreed, perhaps to all three comments. “But it appears to work.”
Ted had paused several times to examine a dark spot of fabric on one side of his craft, including pouring soapy water over it to check for bubbles. Finally he nodded, satisfied.
“All aboard that’s going abroad,” he said.
The sense of urgency all three felt faded a bit once Ted shoved the vessel into the surf.
He slid into the forward end and took up some oars. There was a second rowing position at midships. Hortesnaed had used some of the giant’s rope, drinking cups and slave labor to fashion the oarlocks there into riding cockpits.
“Hmmm. These worked out well, didn’t they Ritchaskka?”
“Worked?” The aide hissed, holding her rope-abraded hands in her armpits to protect them. “Yeah. They worked. We just watched.”
“What’s she complaining about?” Ted asked as he started to row. Ritchaskka and Hortesnaed weren’t entirely sure which direction led to Lilliput, but they did know it was in a generally Southish direction. He put the morning sun on his right and pulled.
“Oh, she wasn’t treated well by the twine as she hauled the mugs up,” The Duchess replied.
“Well, there’s ointment in the first aid kit.” He started to tell them which case was the first aid, then just stopped rowing long enough to retrieve it.
The women braced the bottle between them and Hortesnaed squeezed some onto Ritchaskka’s hands.
They’d just finished rubbing it in when Hortesnaed looked up and saw the courier ship.
“Oh. My.” They were rounding a shoulder of the cannibal island and saw the wreck. It still sat upright, if low in the water. Lines and sail draped the masts that remained.
“It doesn’t look like they’ve salvaged anything,” Ritchaskka muttered. “I mean, they’d have taken the ropes in a heartbeat.”
“Maybe there’s a superstition involved,” Hortesnaed suggested.
“I’d have to look it up,” the aide replied. Then her eyes went wide. “Our, uh, our quarters were on the second deck.”
“Yes.”
“The second deck appears to be out of the water.”
“Yes, I see that.”
“Which means that all of our stuff is high and dry,” Ritchaskka said in a significant tone.
“You wish to board a wreck, in sight of an island of savages, to get a book to look up the habits of those savages,” Hortesnaed said in a more significant tone. “In fact, you wish to delay departing from the vicinity of those savages, in order to get a book that will be of no value once we depart those savages.”
“No, milady,” Ritchaskka said softly. “I wish to risk boarding a wreck because I haven’t changed my underwear in a month.”
The Duchess immediately spun in the mug, pointing in the direction of the shipwreck. “Oh, Ted!”
===
Ted approached the vessel warily, eyes on the ship and shore for any sign of the natives. He parked the raft clear of the rocks and dropped an anchor.
Then he slid into the water and waded the women across. They stayed near the gunwales as he shook and heaved against the side. The ship neither rocked nor sank.
When he was at least marginally satisfied, they set off for their quarters. They’d only had enough time to begin unpacking before the separatists had revealed their plans.
After the murders and disposing of the bodies, they’d been restricted to a small closet a deck further down. Their cases and lockers were largely where they’d last seen them.
“Someone’s been through my things!” Ritchaskka screeched. Her undergarments were strewn about the deck and windows.
“Pirates, ruffians, murderers, rebels AND peeping perverts,” Hortesnaed said sadly. “They deserved far worse than they got.”
“You’re damned right,” her aide replied, tossing things into a handy locker. “I mean, there is propriety even in insurgency!”
They dragged their goods to the main deck. Ted had felt around to find a cargo net and spread it in a clear spot. They piled what they had and went back for more.
“Any chance of charts or maps?” he asked at the third trip.
“Not likely,” Ritchaskka conveyed. “The better pilots keep their notes in cipher, to ensure their wages. And their lives, sometimes.”
“Some food might remain, though,” Hortesnaed suggested. “Something to supplement the giant’s reserves?”
“You want the wine?”
“Well, maybe a cask or two.” They went below as Ted carried a load to the raft. He also circled around the vessel to keep a weather eye out for visitors.
Once below the decking they heard a mournful echoing sound. The water lapped at void spaces in the hull, sounding like strange, wet monsters lapping up debris.
“I think,” Ritchaskka said, “the galley was down…”
“Is someone there?” a voice called from below. “Help! Oh, help me!”
-----
Two decks below where the pair had been imprisoned was the ship’s brig. Two cells of iron bars backed against a bulkhead. One was occupied.
A woman about the Duchess’ age gripped the bars with white knuckles. “Oh, my lord,” she moaned. “I thought I would die in here. I’m Jussifer. Please help me!”
“Oh, of course,” Hortesnaed assured her. “I’m Lady Hortesnaed, Duchess of Mildendo, this is my aide, Lady Ritchaskka, Esquire. We’ll get you out.” She cast about the space for a moment. “Well, if we can’t find the key, our coxswain will certainly be able to free you.”
“Does she look remarkable to you in any way, milady?” Ritchaskka was staring at the caged woman, without moving to help free her.
“What do you mean?” The woman looked uncomfortable under their scrutiny.
“She’s been locked in this cage for a month? Alone since the shipwreck? What’s she been eating?”
“Oh! The larder!” Jussifer turned and stepped to the back of her cage. A plank on the wall fell down at her touch. Beyond they dimly viewed casks and burlap sacks. “I noticed this a day or two after the crash. But the door is locked from the outside, so it only extended my prison to two rooms.”
“That seems reasonable,” the Duchess said to her aide.
“Where’s the honey pot, then? A month of eating uncooked food would leave a pile of poop that even Ted could smell.”
“Oh, please, just get me out,” Jussifer whined. “I can explain everything.”
“You’re the control,” Hortesnaed said softly. “I always suspected that Fellelle was a stalking horse. You ran him.”
“Like a puppet,” the woman said, standing straighter and crossing her arms. “Except I didn’t have to place my hand up anything unseemly.”
“My kidnapping. It was your idea.”
“My mission,” Jussifer corrected. “Not my idea. That was my superior’s. Blefuscu Patriot for Freedom Officer Jussifer, at your service.” She paced a bit. “I was knocked out during the wreck. Woke up under a pile of debris. By the time I made it to the deck, I heard…the horns.”
“And the screams,” Ritchaskka added, looking sternly at the prisoner.
“Yes,” was all she replied.
“So, you heard us, rushed in here and tried to look pitiful.”
“Worth a shot,” Jussifer said. "Wanted you to feel warm towards me, not suspicious."
“So what is your mission?” Hortesnaed asked.
“We just needed you not to be present for one of the inspections,” she shrugged. “That’s over. My mission’s over. My goal,” she said, stressing the word, “is to get off this fucking boat in a way that leads to any civilization.”
She raised her hand and cupped the palm. “I swear by all I hold dear that I have no further designs on either of you.”
“Yeah, that fixes everything,” Ritchaskka said. “I saw we leave her.” Both women looked to the ranking noble on the vessel.
-----
“I can’t forgive you for causing us to live through the last month,” Hortesnaed said. Jussifer waited patiently for a ‘but.’ After a couple of seconds, Ritchaskka smiled and Jussifer’s shoulders slumped.
Hortesnaed stepped to the door, then turned around. “But I could never forgive myself for leaving you here. Strip and come along.”
“What?” Jussifer stared.
“You’re a spy master. Or the leader of a kidnapping ring. And sneaky. I’m sure you’ve got something up your sleeve.”
“Besides the key to the cage,” Ritchaskka added, her smile growing.
“Right. Makes sense,” the Blefuscan nodded. She started to take off her clothes, handing them through the bars. Ritchaskka inspected them, making noises of surprise every so often. Then she shoved them through a cracked deadlight.
They had the spy carry as many skins of wine topside as she could handle. Each of the others grabbed a cask of harder liquor.
When they reached the sunlight the cargo net was waiting for them, but there was no sign of the giant. Ritchaskka noticed a metal can that obviously belonged to him sitting on the deck. She stepped towards it curiously.
“Where’s your coxswain?” Jussifer asked. They started to look around, move to the rails.
“DAMMIT!” Ted thundered from the port side. He rose up, waving an oar over his head. Arrows dotted his face and shoulders. He struck, splashing water over the forecastle. Screams sounded from the water.
Jussifer dropped the wineskins and stepped back. Her eyes were as big around as her open mouth.
“Get in the net!” he shouted. The Lilliputians ran, Hortesnaed at his shout, Ritchaskka after her mistress started to move. They dropped their loads and crouched down. Jussifer hesitated.
“Giants or cannibals!” Hortesnaed shouted as the man reached across the gunnels.
“Great egg, are those the only choices around here?” Ritchaskka muttered. Jussifer leapt over the edge of the net as it rose from the deck, rolling against the aide’s side. “Back off,” she growled.
“Love to, but I’ve nowhere to go!”
Once they were clear of the deck, Ted tipped the can over and swung them over the side.
“What was that?” Ritchaskka asked.
“Something foul, from the smell,” Hortesnaed replied.
“That…that’s incendiary sap!” Jussifer said. “I’ve smelled it before!”
“What’s incendiary sap?” Hortesnaed asked. She was having difficulty breathing as the straps pressed her chest against a cask.
Beneath them the waters frothed as Ted forged towards his raft. He swerved to one side for a second. All the Lilliputians knew was that the netting jostled.
“He just brushed a canoe, it collapsed,” Jussifer said in an awestruck tone. She was the only one in a position to see. “Just a brush,” she repeated.
“Oh, great,” Ritchaskka muttered. “An assassin with man-mountain envy.”
Ted slung the cargo net over the side of the raft and lowered it, gently but swiftly, into his own rowing seat.
The women scrambled to clear the net as he fished the anchor out of the water, then turned to tow the craft to deeper water.
They climbed the ropes to the mugs, all three crowding in and look around. About a dozen canoes were coming around the wreck towards them. They appeared to be slightly faster in the water than Ted was moving.
When the water was almost to his armpits he stopped towing. The women watched as he bounced back along the side, then picked up a device.
“Is that a pistol?” Hortesnaed asked. “I’ve seen the one in the museum, but it wasn’t that…”
“Huge,” Jussifer finished. “It’s even more gigantic than the giant’s other gigantic weapon.” She started to giggle.
“She’s gone into shock,” Ritchaskka said. “Please tell me I can slap her back to normal.”
“Give her a minute,” Hortesnaed ordered. “But only a minute.”
The three had all heard tales of Gulliver’s demonstration of his pistol. They were intellectually prepared for ‘a loud report.’ The crash of this weapon, though, cracked across them explosively. They all grabbed their ears and screamed.
But they didn’t look away.
The barrel discharged a burst of fire and smoke, with a bright line of lesser fire screaming across the water.
It struck the wreck amidships. Green sparks and fire started to erupt from the point of impact. Whatever was forming the flame jittered and spun around in the ship’s interior.
Then the incendiary sap caught fire. The spout of flame was green, orange, red and blue. Bits of flaming masts flew across the sky, some coming down as far away as the beach.
The islanders paused in their rowing. Ted lowered his pistol and started to point it at individual canoes. Each time he did, the men dove over the sides.
When there was no pursuit still intact, he threw the fire weapon to the bottom of the raft and hoisted himself aboard. With a break no greater than three deep breaths, he started to row.
Nothing followed as far as the women could tell. “Can’t say I don’t understand them,” Jussifer said quietly. They turned to gaze at the giant.
“So,” Ted said, between strokes and only as his panting allowed. “Who’s your naked friend?”
----
Hortesnaed explained the woman’s back-story as Ted rowed. Ritchaskka led Jussifer down and across the raft to where the luggage was piled. A change of clothes for the Duchess, and clothes for the officer were quickly found.
The clean fabric felt so wonderful to the touch that Ritchaskka didn’t even try to hide. She just stripped right there and started to put on new clothing.
“STOP!” Jussifer shouted. Ritchaskka spun to see the other woman. She was pointing up to Ted’s face. He had two fingers on one of the arrows in his cheek.
The man sat motionless, staring down at the naked woman yelling at him.
“Can you tell him not to pull those?” Jussifer asked Ritchaskka. She shrugged and looked up to Hortesnaed.
The Duchess passed the warning while looking a question down to the floor.
“The barbarians of the area,” Jussifer explained, “generally use barbs on their arrows. Barbs that will detach when he pulls them out. They’ll fester. Even such as he would be at least uncomfortable. The infections could cost him.”
“Ah.” Ted nodded when the explanation was translated. “Anyone here feel like cutting them out? I assume that’s what needs to happen.”
Jussifer agreed with his assessment and offered to do what was necessary. “You just want a knife,” Ritchaskka accused her.
“Great Yolks, woman!” the officer shrieked. “I want to go home. Any home. Yours, mine, his… Anything that gets me a cup of tea and a lemon biscuit is a good thing. I mean you no harm, and please, please believe me, I mean no harm to our rescuer. Okay?”
“For now,” Ritchaskka sniffed. “He may trust you as far as he can throw you, but I only trust you as far as you can throw him.” They stared at each other.
Suddenly the two burst into laughter. The Esquire turned and tried to identify the trunks. She’d no knife handy but they had packed a letter opener…
-----
Ted rowed until they were fully prepared. A little bit of the incendiary sap burned in a spoon to sterilize the opener.
“Is that what it’s for?” Hortesnaed asked, staring at the colorful flames.
“It’s for the outboard,” he confessed, gesturing towards the empty aft end. “The one that’s still lashed to the deck.”
“What did he say?” Jussifer asked.
“Who knows,” Hortesnaed shrugged. “Something about lashing boards out to… Who knows.”
“Who’s got the best eyesight?” he asked when they said they were ready. “And isn’t afraid of heights?”
Jussifer was the only one that full filled the requirements. Ted picked her up carefully and stood even more carefully. With her held firmly in his fist, he raised it as high as he could.
She examined the ocean from horizon to horizon. There were no canoes visible. Satisfied that they were at least temporarily safe, he settled down in the raft. He pillowed his face on the rowing seat and waited for Jussifer.
=====
Jussifer hefted the recently sharpened, carefully cleaned, horribly balanced tool and looked at the nearest arrow.
Ritchaskka stood beside her with a capful of ointment from the giant’s kit. Hortesnaed had some torn cloth to mop up blood. Behind them was a stack of adhesive gauze panels the giant had.
No one was sure if the wounds would require them.
“Too bad there’s no pain killer,” Jussifer said. “He’s going to scream and twitch.”
“Well, there’s the rum, but it’ll just wet his lip,” Ritchaskka pointed out. “Maybe he’ll hold still if we ask him really nice? Hold still while we drive a knife into his face and dig out barbed weapons?”
They both were shocked as the Duchess suddenly opened her blouse and loosened her garter. Ted’s eyes opened wide as she bared her breasts to his view. She spoke, he replied wonderingly.
“Well?” the aide asked.
“As long as he lies still for your ministrations,” Hortesnaed said, keeping eye contact with the patient, “these stay where he can see them.” In a lower voice she said, “I calculate that any male will suffer far worse for sex, or the hint of sex. Carry on, please.” Jussifer lifted the blade and grabbed the first shaft.
She worked from the most sensitive spots on the face to the least ones on the shoulders. That way each time was easier for all of them.
True to the compact, he never cried aloud, although the sound of his grinding jaws made the women’s stomachs queasy.
At the end he reached to the Duchess, but merely stroked her hair, whispered thanks and lay back for a moment. She covered herself and helped clean up the tools and debris.
After a few moments rest, Ted sat and started to wonder about a direction. The island they’d left was below the horizon, but a column of smoke still rose from the wreckage.
He took the dark cloud as an aiming point and started rowing away from it. The others climbed to the mugs and started to look around.
“Hey,” he asked, “how do you say, thank you very much, in Lilliputian?” Hortesnaed taught him so he could offer very sincere appreciation to the other two.
They accepted it and went on with their lookout duties. An hour passed.
“Light!” Ritchaskka shouted, pointing. At the very lip of the horizon, a small dot of brightness moved slowly from left to right. The raft was already pointed in that general direction. Ted shrugged and began moving towards it.
That light faded into the setting sun after a few moments, but another one followed. Then two. There was a continuing parade of lights, in groups of three or less, constantly moving along the shore of a dimly seen island.
The sun finally departed the sky, the brief ocean twilight tugging the stars into view. The lights continued. As Ted drew closer, the arc they were visible on grew. Soon the women could discern that they were torches. After that, they could see, barely, the runners carrying them.
Islanders were apparently circling the island with their lights. The purpose was apprehended by no one on the raft.
Some point during the dark transit, Ted made a worried noise. “The raft is softer,” he said. “Air’s escaping.” He redoubled his efforts and the raft surged through the water towards the island.
=====
They were within a furlong of the shore when Ted stopped and shipped the oars.
“What are you doing?” Hortesnaed asked him.
“What is he doing?” Jussifer asked her.
“What the egg do you think she asked him?” Ritchaskka asked immediately afterwards.
“I’m going to tow the raft,” he said and slipped over the side. There was a hiss as the salt water reached the wounds he hadn’t bandaged, then the craft started to move forward again.
“He’s doing that,” the Duchess explained to the others, pointing to where one hand gripped the oarlock in the moonlight. Jussifer and Ritchaskka groaned.
There had been no apparent reaction to the splash. The runners continued their parade. As the craft neared the beach, the women became able to distinguish the people. Old and young ran and carried the torches.
They glanced out towards the noise of Ted’s swimming, but no one paused.
Ritchaskka kept a curious eye on the beach. The footsteps of untold passings were a dark line, clear in the moonlight. Each torch bearer followed that faithfully. As Ted climbed up out of the water, though, they swerved to avoid him.
But they didn’t stop. As they rounded the giant they returned to the path and continued.
“Something religious?” Hortesnaed asked.
“I’ll find out,” Jussifer promised. “I’ve worked with mercenaries from these islands. I can ask what they’re doing and if there’s a problem with us beaching here.”
“If there is,” Ritchaskka observed, “there’s not a lot we can do about it.” Even without the giant’s weight, the raft continued to deflate. Wrinkles were clearly visible.
“Yeah, but we can pretend we’re being polite,” Hortesnaed said. “Go ahead. Ted!” she called. “Lift Jussifer to the beach, please?”
He hadn’t quite stepped out of the water yet. He knelt in the surf and held a hand out. Jussifer stepped lightly aboard, holding tightly to his thumb.
On the beach she jumped free and stepped in front of the next native. An old lady, she was clearly exhausted but wouldn’t pause to talk. She circled Jussifer and marched on.
The officer called out and walked along beside her. They walked out of view. Ted moved the other two to the sand, then slumped over and rested. More bearers passed by, staring at the puffing giant, but not stopping.
Every so often, an older man tugged his ear towards the Lilliputian ladies. They nodded in return.
“It’s a rescue,” Jussifer declared as she came back into view. “Their king led a trading party to a near island. There was a storm earlier today and he may have been blown off course on the way back.”
She pointed to the line of lights. “They’re making sure he knows where home is. They can’t be sure what direction he’s in, so they circle the beach until he comes home.”
“Too bad there isn’t a wreck Ted could set aflame,” Ritchaskka said half-jokingly. “We could be welcomed as king-saving heroes.”
“Well, let’s see what we can do,” Hortesnaed said. She walked to the giant’s ear and started explaining.
He laughed and sat up. “That’s not much of a beacon,” he said while collecting things into a bag. “I mean, I’m six foot tall, so the horizon’s about 19 miles away. It goes down dramatically with every foot you drop. So at seven inches….”
He shouldered the bag’s strap and stepped up on the sand. “Tell one of them to take us to the highest point on the island. We’ll save their king.”
A tube in his hand seemingly burst into flame. Light illuminated the beach, blinding everyone there.
“Oh, oops!” he apologized, raising the beam to the sky.
=====
The volcano was so ancient they could hardly discern the crater at the top. “But it’s clearly a volcano,” Ritchaskka said. “So that’s good.”
“Why is it good?” Hortesnaed asked.
“Because all island adventures have a volcano,” Jussifer explained. “At least, the good ones do.”
“Damn straight,” Ritchaskka agreed. Then caught herself for being comradely with the spy. Then caught herself again, as they’d sort of made amends.
The other two riding in the giant’s pocket watched her facial expressions flicker in the reflected illumination of the ‘flashlight.’
“This’ll do,” Ted said, lowering his satchel to the rocks. Islanders milled around him. None had been willing to ride in his pockets. They backed away from the women with awe as he set them down carefully.
“Okay, ask them what direction is most likely,” he ordered as he sorted through his gear. He stood the ‘flashlight’ on the ground, the upright beam illuminating the entire mountaintop.
The assembly pointed in all manner of directions. If two were pointing the same way, Ritchaskka thought, it was the purest of chance. Ted just laughed.
“Okay, ask them the WORST direction for him to be in.” As Jussifer translated Hortesnaed’s translation, every arm pointed towards one side of the island.
“That’s open ocean,” Jussifer reported back. “No land for days. If he’s lost there, he’s truly lost.”
“Good place to start,” he said. Then he stood with his really, really big gun. The women from the raft covered their ears. Ted leaned over the crowd. “Boom!” he said. Then, louder, “BOOM!” Then he shouted, “BOOOOOM!” Then he fired the weapon.
The noise wasn’t as frightening after the buildup. Islanders still fell over backwards or jumped up into the air.
But the noise was nothing next to the flare. The light flew like a burning arrow into the air, straight up and screaming. It was a different color from the one he’d blown up the shipwreck with, a pure white.
It arced up in the direction they’d been pointing, then burst into a shining beacon. “It’s like a lighthouse could fly,” Jussifer said. It then started to drift gently downwards over the ocean.
Hortesnaed was watching the giant. Ted held something up, winked at her. “Light amplifying binoculars,” he said. She nodded as if he’d conveyed information somehow.
He stepped around to the other side of the flashlight and started looking at the water. After a long time of searching, the light reached the ocean and winked out.
“Nothing,” he reported, then picked up the gun again and reloaded it. “Boom!” he told his audience.
“BOOOOOM!” they shouted back. He smiled and shot the next round in a slightly different direction. After only a few moments he shouted. “Woohoo! Tell Jussy that I see four big twin-hulled canoes.”
“I can’t,” Hortesnaed shouted back. “I have no idea what you’re saying.” In the end, he held the Blefuscan up to the lens. He looked through one to aim it and held her between his face and the other side.
She conveyed the view to the islanders, who cheered. After that, the Lilliputians wanted to see. Hortesnaed leaned against the rubber rim and looked.
There were forms on boats, strangely tinted. But there was no mistaking the people’s excitement. Figures on the crafts were pointing up at the floating light.
“Do they know to follow that home?” she asked.
“They will,” Ted promised. “They will.” He lowered her and pulled a tube out of the satchel.
With some strange manipulations he caused it, too, to burst into flames. Big red glaring fire shot out of one end. He held the other and waved it back and forth behind his head.
He carefully held the ample lighted things to his face and watched the boatmen for a reaction.
“They’re coming this way,” he reported. Eventually the villagers got the message and cheered once more.
Ted piled up some rocks and left the fire burning on one side of the volcano. It would be clearly visible in the king’s direction.
“That’ll last for a few hours,” he promised. “I gotta go lay down.” He gathered his companions and trekked down the mountain.
=====
“How long to set camp?” Jussifer asked. The others in the pocket shrugged.
“He broke it down fairly quickly this morning,” Ritchaskka said, “but we’ve never seen him set it up.”
Ted stepped to the shore and shone a flashlight on the raft. It was almost completely flat, now. He grunted then started to unload it.
“Anything we can do to help?” Hortesnaed asked as he bent down. He realized that they were clinging desperately to his shirt so they wouldn’t slide out of the pocket.
“Oh! Damn, sorry about that.” He carefully lowered the women to the sand once more. “Well, where’s a good place to set up the tents?”
“Tents?”
“I’ve got two. If this island has people, I guess it would be better to put the gear in something.”
For raising the tents, he lifted up a small bag and stepped to the area the others had picked out. There was a flip and suddenly the giant tent was there. Long stakes held down the corners and he was done.
“Wow,” Hortesnaed shouted. “You could replace the housing industry with those things.”
“I’m not really sure how they’re made,” he admitted. The second was set up facing the first. Gear was moved quickly. His sleeping bag and their chests went in one, everything else in the other.
Hortesnaed led the others into the sleeping tent and started getting ready for sleep.
After a few minutes Ted crawled inside with them. He held the case for the night binoculars. Those he removed and placed in the corner, offering the padded case as a little bed for his companions.
“Oh, this is the softest thing I’ve ever felt,” Hortesnaed said as she slid inside. The others agreed. Ted smiled at their smiles and was soon asleep.
The others talked for a while.
“This bit,” Ritchaskka said, “where he spoke, and you spoke, and she spoke, and the natives replied and it went all the way back again? We gotta stop that.”
“Yes,” Jussifer agreed. “We should all be able to talk to Twed.”
“That’s Ted,” Hortesnaed corrected her. “Your accent is showing.”
“Twed. That’s what I said.”
The Duchess shook her head. “Well, I can teach you English…”
“Would it be better,” Ritchaskka asked, “to teach him Lilliputian? That way he’d have three teachers, rather than two of us having one.”
“And you’re taking him to Lilliput,” Jussifer added, “so he’d be better off knowing how to say ‘Thank you, your Grace,’ when he’s introduced at court.”
“Makes sense,” she agreed. “But I don’t know if he’ll want to learn…”
“Tell him it’s so we can call for help if you’re in trouble, and tell him where to find you,” Jussifer suggested.
“Yeah. He’ll do anything for you,” Ritchaskka observed. “Now that you’ve hinted at sex, as you put it, the man’s your natural womanly prey.”
Hortesnaed’s blush was hidden in the dark. But so was her smile.
Ritchaskka suddenly started laughing. She pointed up to the ceiling of the tent, overcome by whatever was amusing her.
The others looked around, found nothing, waited rather impatiently for her to explain.
“The roof. It comes up to Ted’s waist,” she finally forced out, then had to gasp for breath.
“And…..” Jussifer said ominously.
“So,” Ritchaskka said after another moment, “figure the king’s about to come to shore. ‘Hey, guys, that was a neat trick with the light. Who’s the sorcerer?’
“And they’ll say, ‘Boss! There was this GIANT!’ He came ashore. He was soooooooooooooo big.’”
“Ah, I get it,” Hortesnaed said. Long exposure had given her a clue to her aide’s way of thinking. “He’ll say, ‘Giant of a man, right. Was he taller than Uncle Beeeenie?’”
“Boss,” Ritchaskka replied, “he was bigger than Uncle Beeeenie’s tree house.”
“He was bigger than Uncle Beeeenie’s tree house's TREE!” Jussifer added. Ritchaskka nodded and collapsed in a fit of giggles.
“But the tent….?” Jussifer asked.
“The king’s not going to believe how really big Ted is,” Hortesnaed explained. “When he marches over here in the morning to check us out, he’ll see this tent.”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, every other tent I’ve seen in use, it’s tall enough for the occupant to stand up in, move around. King Whoever is going to see this tent, and he’ll be impressed. Then Ted climbs out and stands up…”
“Ooooooh. Just when he’s willing to agree that the guys were right about a giant, he’ll see a gigantic giant.”
“Yeah.”
“That is somewhat funny,” Jussifer agreed. The two smiled, while the Esquire laughed herself unconscious.
-----
Hortesnaed woke slowly. She noticed that the sleeping cloths beside her were empty. Then she noticed that the giant’s eyes were opened.
“Hey,” she called over to him as she crawled out. “That was a wonderful sleep. How are you?”
“I can’t move,” he said rather cheerfully. “My muscles say I rowed, ran, climbed, fought and kicked a month’s worth yesterday and they’re taking the week off.” Very slowly and jerkily, he rolled over from his side to his back.
He stared at the ceiling of the tent and blew air out of his nose. “I don’t think I’ll be able to patch the raft today. In fact, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand.”
“Oh, you have to,” she told him as she quickly dressed. “The King will probably want to thank you for rescuing him. And his advisors will need you to be seen.”
“Seen? Why?”
“Because he probably didn’t believe them when they said a giant rescued him. Or, at least he’s not going to believe how gigantic you are.” She recounted the discussion from the evening. He found it slightly more amusing than the Duchess had, but nowhere near as funny as the Esquire had.
Or perhaps he was just afraid to laugh, fearing punishment from every muscle involved.
“Ahoy the canvas gazebo!” Ritchaskka called from outside somewhere. There was a length of zipper undone at the end, about as long as the giant’s hand. She slithered through and into the tent.
“Jussifer’s coming back,” she reported. “How is he feeling?”
“He aches all over. Where did Jussifer go?”
“I don’t know. She was climbing without when I rose, then just disappearing across the beach when I made it outside.” She stepped to Ted’s head and stroked a cheek around one of his adhesive panels. He smiled across at her. “It’s going to be quite the effort to feed him in here,” she observed.
“Oh, my. I hadn’t thought of that. Well, maybe smelling food will overcome his paralysis.”
“Good news!” Jussifer said at the opening. She tossed some bundles through and climbed after. “I found some clothes more appropriate to the weather, and climbing around that raft all day.”
She wore some sort of light material wrapped around her body a couple of times. The Lilliputians felt that it looked remarkably wanton, but even more remarkably cool.
When Ted managed to turn his head enough to see the women, he gave out a low whistle. “She looks nice,” he said.
“What did he say?” Jussifer asked.
“He said you look like a slut,” Hortesnaed translated, then broke into a smile. “A very comfortable slut. Where’s mine?”
-----------
“This is the good news?” Ritchaskka asked as they carefully placed the wraps. “You’ve gone native?”
“Oh, no. I got these at a village just around the point. They’re preparing a big celebration for the king’s trading success and rescue.” She gestured towards Ted. “He’s the god of honor.”
“Celebration means feast?” Hortesnaed asked. “Because he’s too tired to cook right now.”
“Oh, they’re bringing breakfast over in a few.” She giggled. “The king’s coming. He doesn’t believe the cook. His mother-in-law apparently told him how much they’d have to cook to feed a man that big. He wants to see Ted for himself.”
She took Hortesnaed by the hand and walked towards the man. “Tell him he has to stand up when he hears the royal horns sound. I think it’ll be even funnier than Ritchaskka thought.“
“Hurry!” Ritchaskka said from the opening. “I hear the horns!”
Ted groaned as they suggested that he ready himself to receive royalty.
----
The women climbed up on Ted’s flashlight, sat on the handle and watched the royal procession arrive.
It was not only the king that thought the reports were exaggerated. A dozen of his courtiers had been on the trading expedition and added their take on the reports.
It had been dark, after all, and a lot of emotions were at play. Yes, the burnt-out tube was impressively large, but any two of the rowers could heft it.
The royal band had also been at sea when the so-called giant arrived. The conch blowers and the drummers had been playing steadily on the march, then played extra loud at the sight of the tents.
There was a pause when the door puffed out a little bit, and the zipper started to move. But they came back strong, blasting the king’s theme from the beach to the rising foothills.
Until Ted’s head came into view.
Ever mouth hung open, every foot stopped and the silence was utter. Wide eyes followed the movement of the head as Ted crawled slowly out and stood carefully.
Even some of the islanders that had attended the flare shooting were surprised at how goddamned big the man was in daylight.
When he waved, stout men fainted.
The king, way out in front, tried hard to be nonchalant and managed to take three steps further along the beach.
But when Ted sneezed the king fell. Half the islanders present thought he’d been struck dead by the flying-fire god and ran off into the jungle.
The Duchess jumped down, the other two following. She grasped the king’s hand and raised him up.
“Tell him to shout, ‘Gesunheit,’” she told Jussifer.